


Cleansing Ceremony

by CapriciousVanity



Category: The Evil Within (Video Game)
Genre: Crying, Double Penetration, Face-Fucking, Group Sex, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Skull Fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-27 20:07:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12589588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapriciousVanity/pseuds/CapriciousVanity
Summary: Stefano is trapped in a cell from the cultists who promised him promotion from applicant to disciple. He knew the cult itself was a fraud, despite the desire to join, but he hadn't realized just how much he would pay for attempting to learn their secrets.





	Cleansing Ceremony

**Author's Note:**

> TO: Applicant S.V.
> 
> Congratulations, Truth Seeker! Thank you for  
> taking our Spiritual Acuity Test. We're pleased to  
> welcome you to the next level of Knowledge.  
> Please report to the nearest Mu Center with this  
> letter to ascend from Probationary Applicant to the  
> position of Mu Disciple. This letter guarantees you  
> an exalted position at the next Cleansing Ceremony.

Stefano awoke groggy, groaning as he opened his eyes slowly with the realization he was stuck in a cold, damp cell.

“Ah… What?”

He stood slowly, stumbling for a moment when he realized his coat and scarf were gone. He clicked his tongue, annoyed that the dirt and mud had stained his dress shirt. No gloves either, or knife for that matter.

He sighed, waving off his situation as a mere inconvenience.

“This is what I get for finding hope within a Cult.”

He crossed his arms and peered around the cell. A filthy cot, a broken table, and more rubble and dirt. The cell door looked like thick iron, rusted, however, with a slot to peer through. Just then, he jumped at the suddenness of the slot opening, and the familiar cult symbol, in mockery of a cross, peered back at him.

“Come to set me free?” He said flatly, knowing he’d probably have to give a fight if he wanted to be freed. The door opened to reveal the cultist in full garb, a heavy gray robe with a hood that completely covered the cultist’s face, the insignia painted in red upon it. Behind them were three other cultists, also in gray. Each wore black gloves and black boots, but their faces were kept under hood. Stefano leaned down to try and peak, but it appeared they wore black masks under their hoods as well. He huffed.

“What do I need to do, then? Bloodlet? Sacrifice some virgin? No matter. My purpose here is to create art. If to do so is to shed blood, then by all means.” He opened his arms in performative welcome, but he reared back somewhat at the cultists inviting themselves in on his cue. The door shut behind them.

He stepped back but two of the four cultists grabbed his arms. He growled at them and tried to yank himself free. He wasn’t a physically weak man, but these cultists did not relent. One kicked him in the gut and he spat and coughed, the two holding him lowered him to his knees. He spat at the ground in front of the apparent leader.

Before he could speak, a gloved hand grabbed his face and squeezed the sides of his jaw open, -hard enough he feared it could break if he didn’t open up.

Stefano thrashed as the group leader, still holding his jaw, opened part of their robe, a slick and anointed body bare underneath, and a hard cock waiting for him.

“Animal!” he yelled, jerking his head away, but the group leader grabbed his hair tightly, the leather ripping at his hair. The two holding onto his arms stilled him, kneeling with him, and one grabbed his face to open his mouth again. As he tried to pull away, the group leader’s hard cock was forced into his mouth, the girth enough to make him choke at first and water his eyes.

A shaky breath escaped his nose as the cultist forced their thick cock down his throat, with whatever oil their body was slick with leaking down Stefano’s chin. Stefano instinctively tried to swallow the intrusion to no avail, and the fourth cultist, who only watched the first few moments, circled behind him. The fourth cultist pressed their heavy chest against Stefano's back, and hands pulled apart Stefano’s legs.

The photographer whimpered, trying again to swallow as more spittle spilled from his mouth with the girth of the group leader’s cock moving back and forth. He thought about biting down, but the paralyzing fear of the other three, and what worse they could do to him, prevented him from doing so. Instead he tried to break free again, only to have the fourth cultist grab his crotch, squeezing Stefano’s heat until he yelped in pain around the leader’s dick. He had nowhere to go, attempting to press back into the fourth cultist to get away from the thickness of the leader’s sex, quivering as the fourth continued to molest him.

A gloved hand forced its way down his trousers, by which he tried to close his legs when another painful squeeze kept him in place. He closed his eye to hope it would go faster, be used quickly, but the leader tightened their grip in his hair and tugged, a sure sign Stefano knew he should open his eye again. The hand in his hair relented and he was momentarily relieved, deciding to attempt to please the leader by matching their motion, bobbing into the forced face fuck. The hand returned to his face, however, and brushed away the hair that covered his missing eye, the indention in his face. A thumb prodded the sensitive flesh, stroking gently, carefully, around the opening of his missing eye.

Stefano grimaced, but was caught between a whimper and a sudden moan, as slick hands stroked his dick in his pants. He didn’t realize the fourth cultist had removed their gloves, but Stefano’s legs quivered as he tried to ignore the betraying pleasure from his body’s reaction. The leader, thrusting into his throat, stroked the side of Stefano’s scarred face. He was pushed forward, arms released to catch himself, and his trousers were pulled down to his knees. He felt the slick filth of mud between his fingers, as wet as the thick heat filling his mouth. He was being stroked and jerked by the pair of the fourth cultist’s hands, balls squeezed as bare hips pressed against his own bare ass, a hard cock sitting between his cheeks. He tried to shake his head, but the leader made sure he couldn’t.

The fourth cultist took hold of Stefano’s arms, and the leader stilled their thrusts, curiously shuffling just a bit, but still in Stefano’s mouth. He saw in his remaining eye’s peripheral, the second cultist that once held his arm was positioning their cock towards his eye socket.

Stefano tried to thrash again, the fourth and third cultist holding him tightly as he tried to yell with his mouth full of cock. His breathing increased drastically, close to hyperventilation, as his hand was forced to grab hold of the third cultist’s penis and the fourth spread apart the artist’s ass. Stefano was shaking, feeling the intrusion in his face as he choked, two shafts forcing their way in and out as he scrunched his face and mumbled a plea. His hand was forced to wrap around the third cultist’s penis, regardless of the mud, and moved to stroke as the cultist held his hand in place to fuck it like a toy.

The fourth finally pressed into his ass, slick with oil, and the stretch burned in pain terribly. Tears fell from Stefano’s good eye, blurring his vision, and his sinuses began to run somewhat as he cried. He was pushed like a ragdoll, skin slapping his ass and pushing him forward and back, only forcing him to be fucked by the two cocks in his face and mouth, the perpetual motion letting his hand stroke the third cultist’s cock as well. He tried to suck, hoping to trick himself into allowing what they wanted, and his hips jerked into the strokes of the fourth cultist's hand reached around him, squeezing his shaft and occasionally rounding the tip of his glans, the cultist's other hand grabbing and massaging his balls.

Stefano could do little but allow the heat of the four bodes cause a rise in him, slick precum coating his cock and hand, and precum leaked from his eye socket – he could feel it’s warmth and the sting of salt on the still-sensitive skin. He choked a sob, but little noise save for a yelp escaped him as a pool of heat rose in his belly. He was going to cum soon, but he doubted his own orgasm would stop the four from violating him and his body.

Sweat made a sheen over Stefano's skin and his jaw and face ached at the intrusions. The cock in his eye hit something that made his vision go white for a flash and his body jolt him pain. The second cultist with their cock in his eye seemed to jut faster and less methodic, hitting that painful spot again as their cock buried into Stefano’s skull. The appendage in his throat forced itself deep despite his gagging protest, far enough to Stefano’s nose touched the group leader’s bushy groin.

Stefano could barely breath and failed to sputter what juice was forced down his throat. His own orgasm came, making him twitch and constrict around the cock in his ass. He didn’t realize his ears were ringing, drowning out the loud wet sound of skin and heavy, hot moans. He didn’t realize his own moans escaped him, loud and uncontrollable as it vibrated the group leader’s cock. The group leader and the third cultist removed themselves, cum leaking down his face and spit down his chin, mixing with tears and snot. Stefano clenched his teeth, but the remaining two cultists began to move him. The fourth behind him pulled him close to lay down into them on their back, ripping his shirt open and removing it to toss it to the side.

The second cultist, who had been thrusting into his hand moments ago, lifted his legs and removed his pants the remainder of the way, tossing it with his shirt, and began to double penetrate him, the stretch causing Stefano to tense as he cried out a sob and squeezed his own legs. The first and third cultists stood over them, stroking out what remaining cum they had in their splendor over Stefano’s body. The two cultists thrusted into him at a disjointed pace, rubbing against his sensitive spot over and over, and Stefano couldn’t contain his moans as horrified as he was. They stroked his over-sensitive dick, which made his body jolt, but they didn’t stop.

Stefano had stopped crying, but the numbness remained, his body limp and his mouth agape as he was used and jostled like a toy. He had cum a second time, his body tensing as his ass was also filled with milky white cum. He was shaking, feeling unfortunately empty as the two cultists slid out of his now-wet anus. Stefano was left on the ground, quivering on his side as the door closed and he was left alone to cling to the cot and sob, writhing into himself. 

He didn’t recall how he came to be in front of the theatre, clothes torn and dignity ripped away from him, but somehow he doubted he was here without Their consenting release of him. 

Everything was a lie, but he hadn't realized how badly. 

**Author's Note:**

> Lies! All Lies!


End file.
